Weeping Willow Haven
by IvoryJam's Stories
Summary: Ivory is 8 and thinking about why she is different. This is world were people have soul splits that are being make from the person's soul and each soul split belongs to a single person. This is the base of my manga I wish to make.


Ivory sat softly on the grass. Under the huge weeping willow tree the young girl looked small than she really was. At the age of 8 Ivory was 3 foot and 7 inches, just a few inches below average, and had white just beyond shoulder length hair.

Ivory tugged at her white hair. That was the reason the boys picked on her. They thought it was so so so funny to pull at her hair and call her granny. Like always when that happened Ivory ran off to the forest and her big weeping willow.

She had found the weeping willow two years before when the teasing had started. It had been a particularly hard day at school because of the teasing and Ivory had not felt like going to her house were mother and stepfather just yelled at her. So she had wandered the local forest until she came across the tree. Ever since that day the tree had been her haven.

Ivory pulled her kitty cat backpack off. Inside of the bag were all the normal things an 8 year old should have a doll, a book, a spiral and some pencils and markers. But along with the usually there was the unusually which included a map covered in symbols of Ivory's own design standing for different things, a MP3 player, a wallet full of change for phone calls, and first aid kit.

The map was for when Ivory went exploring the country side, forest and towns. Ivory had no since of direction at all but could locate herself pretty quick in an unknown location. The MP3 player was for the long walks she took to postpone going home and to distract herself from the real world. Music was a great escape and Ivory loved listening to it at all times. The change was there for emergencies like when she was running late and had to tell mom she would miss supper. Lastly the first aid kit was there for every like cut, scratch, and bruise Ivory got. Though she liked being outside Ivory was a city girl and hated being hurt. It was also there so she could patch herself up after the boys were done picking on her.

Pulling at her long striped shirt, Ivory wondered not for the first time her hair turned white. It was so odd. It happened on a day like any other, the day had started of bad with her mom yelling at her and her baby brother crying but normal. Ivory had left the house and gone to the forest to pick flowers so that her mom might feel better and not hate so much. She had gone down to pick a beautiful white daisy when everything was hot then cold.

The changing temperature sensation had lasted for a few minutes followed by an indescribable pain in her chest. For a 5 and a half year old she thought she was having a heart attack just much more painful. Then it had stopped. As suddenly as it began it stopped. Ivory was on the ground covered in cold sweat and had just wanted to go home and sleep. So after a tiring journey home Ivory was confronted with her mother's screams about what she did to her hair. Only then did the young girl realize her hair was no longer brown but snow white. After the yelling and screaming had stop could Ivory sleep.

Following the hair incident as Ivory called it she noticed were darker. No longer a hazel blue color but black, pitch black like night or tar. Ivory kept this to herself and luckily or unluckily nobody noticed.

Now nearly 3 years later Ivory still wondered what had happened. Seeing that the sun was close to setting ivory bolted up from her position on the ground and grabbed her backpack. Running as she put the cat on her back, Ivory started towards her house that should have been a home.

The young girl made an interesting picture running down the sidewalks to a nice neighborhood. White on top with a mixture of green and orange under moving at an alarming rate. But no one really stopped to look. No one saw the girl whose white hair was in a pony tail knotted and tangled from people pulling on it. No one saw the girl who wore a dress a few sizes too big because she bought the clothes herself not knowing when she would get new ones for the on coming years. No one saw the girl with socks all the way up past her knees to cover healing wounds. No one saw Ivory the girl that existed inside Natalie Towrsed. No one saw the girl begging, crying, pleading, wishing, hoping to be free.


End file.
